Even the Ether Trembles

On the Quivering Web that Connects Everything

A grey morning and yellow daffodils,
a slick terra cotta pot nestled in damp soil
beneath the budding tree,
birdsongs, cawing, 
echoing through windows.

A thick white mug with orange lining,
the words, “TEA with honey,”
coffee inside it,
warmth on my tongue, my fingers,
cinnamon and bittersweetness.

A chill on my bare skin,
gooesbumps 
beneath fire engine red spandex,
the rising of my spine,
the pop of a vertebra.

A small square of paper: ”movement ∞ emotion.”
Small squares of paper everywhere.
Contraction, release, spiraling.
Breath, sex & dance.
What would love do?

Everything touches everything,
there is a wholeness,
this wholeness is in motion.
Even the ether trembles;
all parts of the web quivering.

In waves,
in ripples,
in harmony,
in space.
A quaking mess of sensitivity.

A bunch of delicate flowers
arranged in a small milk jar
respond to the bouncing weight
of my writing hand.
The budding tree bobbing its limbs
responding “yes,” to the wind.

And here I am,
responding to each rhythmic stimulus
part of the chorus
in concert with the
spiraling universe.